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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 61: Nurturing Veins
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 14:00:15 +0000 UTCChapter 61: Nurturing Veins
123 AC, Dragonstone
Daemon Targaryen knew that he wasn’t the most rational of beings. His father, Baelon, had told him many times that he was ruled by his heart. He had taken it in stride at that time, but as he stared at the sorcerer’s green eyes, which were all but glowing in the darkness, after having grabbed Dark Sister, stopping the swing of Valyrian Steel, with his bare hands, he knew that he had made an error in judgment.
It was a very large contrast from before, where the man before him had taken Dark Sister from him in the blink of an eye, out of curiosity more than anything. This time, he wished to take the man by surprise to truly force things, but the fact that Daemon hadn’t even drawn blood against an unarmed opponent was beyond humiliating.
Yet, his rage would not be cowed.
It hadn’t been cowed since the start of it all, when a few servants, shakingly knocking on his door, while he was in the middle of a conversation with the King, and told him very quickly that his daughters were ill and that the Maester were tending to them.
According to the servants, they had been found in the lower levels, wearing breeches of all things. Daemon easily knew that they were planning on sneaking away, likely for Baela to go see Moondancer. It was nice to see that the fire in her hadn’t been stifled by Rhaenys and Corlys’ punishment, whatever it was.
It grated on him that he did not know why they were punished, nor the fact that they thought they had the authority to discipline his daughters. Daemon would admit that he wasn’t the best father. He often indulged Baela more than he should, and he didn’t know how to interact with Rhaena. The girl simply reminded him of Laena so much that it hurt sometimes.
He knew that there was something wrong with them in the last few days. They spent too much time apart, especially compared that they were almost inseparable most of the time. Baela hadn’t gone to play with her dragon, and Rhaena just stayed silent with just her new dragon, Solarys, keeping her company. It was nice to know that they planned to sneak away together, a childish activity, especially with Viserys and the Hightower bitch staying on Dragonstone in the meantime.
He only wished that they were in good health.
Daemon had all but ignored Viserys and ran to where the servants claimed his daughters were being treated. He found them with Gerardys, Rhaenyra’s pet Maester, who had looked quite worried. It barely took him a moment to see why. Both girls look so small in their beds, very pale with black veins across their bodies.
The man was Rhaenyra’s creature, yes, and Daemon wouldn’t profess to enjoying his company, but he would easily admit that very few in the known world could be as skilled as he in healing. He even studied some obscure poisons in case Rhaenyra ingested some, thus was his dedication to his future Queen.
And yet, he looked haggard, confused, and did not know the origin of such a poison, nor did he know of any substance that could create anything like this. He had all but said the fact that whatever had happened was connected to magic in some way, and there was a very clear suspect, in the form of the sorcerer who had made Dragonstone in home in the last few moons.
Which made his simmering rage soar to new heights. He couldn’t heal his daughter. He wasn’t a healer. He was a warrior, a destroyer, and so, he would destroy the ones who had harmed his daughters.
And so, he’d grabbed Caraxes, who tried to reassure him in vain through their bond, and flew down towards the Potters’ manse. He was slightly confused as to why Syrax was there, or why Rhaenyra sat with the two Potters on the beach. A part of him wished to ask or demand answers, but the rage won out, which brought him to his position, unable to retrieve his sword, who was stuck in the sorcerer’s grasp, and he gritted out, “What did you do to my daughters?”
He prepared Caraxes to burn them all. He was perfectly happy dying if he took the Potters with him. He didn’t think about Rhaenyra being nearby, or the fact that his daughters would mourn him, only that the sorcerer would be dead, and that was all that mattered.
Harry Potter tilted his head in confusion, “Rhaena and Baela? I haven’t seen them in a while. What happened?”
That froze Daemon in his tracks for a few moments. No, that must be some kind of trick. He only needed time to convince Caraxes to do it. “They were found outside the fortress unconscious, looking as cold as dead bodies, with some odd black veins all over them. The Maester said that it didn’t match anything he had ever seen before that it was almost unnatural. So, I ask of you again, what did you do to my daughters?”
The amusement disappeared from the sorcerer’s face. Whatever mischievousness was gone, and instead was complete calm and focus. He could feel himself unable to breathe for just a moment, before he spoke up, this time with something very different in his voice, “Take us to them. Now.”
He let go of the sword and seemingly walked towards Dragonstone, his wife following him without saying anything more.
It took some time for the Rogue Prince to grasp that the news of Rhaena and Baela’s condition was truly a surprise to them. It was possible, in some way. Daemon had made many enemies in his time in Essos, and he could imagine one of them wanting to take their revenge against him by hiring some Essosi mage to kill his daughter. It might even be Otto Hightower leaving one last insult to Daemon before fucking off back to Oldtown. Thankfully, his sons with Rhaenyra, Aegon and Viserys, were fine. He had gone there to check, and they were perfectly happy with their nursemaids. They were barely more than babes, which he had all but hidden away alongside Rhaenyra to avoid involving them in any political affair, like arranging betrothals.
Back to Rhaena and Baela, if they were truly attacked by some rogue mage, then the Potters were likely the best chance at them surviving, especially given how they healed Viserys despite being on a continent away.
And so, Daemon quickly joined them, sending Caraxes away. His dragon was obviously unnerved by the sorcerer and likely wouldn’t let the man ride him. Syrax would likely fare no better, given the way he had quickly followed, both of them flying disturbingly far away from them the moment they allowed it.
Rhaenyra followed after him, having a panicked look on her face since hearing the news. She obviously wished to say something, but he glared at her, making her stay silent. He did not think that she could say anything that could help.
The trip back to Dragonstone was quick, barely more than a few minutes, which was oddly quick, given the circumstances, but it was also completely silent. There was no rustling of leaves, no sounds of birds or animals, only the waves crashing into Dragonstone.
It was odd. His few encounters with the man gave Daemon the impression that he wouldn’t stop talking. There was something unnerving about the silence, something oppressing. Even when they entered the fortress, everything felt muted. Perhaps it was just his worry for his daughters’ lives.
They walked up to the room where the Master was caring for both girls and almost growled as he noticed the Kingsguard, especially Criston Cole, standing guard before the room. Their presence there meant only a single thing, which was confirmed when he entered the room.
On the right, talking with the Maester was Viserys, while the Queen watched his pale daughters intensely. She turned towards him and obviously tried to say something, perhaps pretending to care about what happened, but her mouth closed after he glared at her.
Corlys and Rhaenys were also there, sitting silently in a corner, with Rhaena’s dragon, Solarys, resting on the woman’s lap. At least, he knew that they were not there for some political scheme or another. They stared at Rhaena and Baela, Corlys being unnaturally pale and Rhaenys’ hands shaking in fright.
Instead of addressing anyone else, he turned to Maester Gerardys and asked, “How are they?”
“I cannot be sure, given that I do not know what happened, but all signs point to their condition stabilising, or at least not worsening,” the man retorted, “I can only do so much without knowing what the source of their ailment is.”
“Then what good are you?” Daemon hissed in his rage.
The man nodded calmly, knowing the Rogue Prince’s temper, but Viserys spoke up, “You can hardly blame the man. I have sent ravens to the Citadel. They should send their best Healers and experts in the Higher Mysteries to try to unravel this.”
The Rogue Prince practically hissed back, “Why are you here, Viserys?”
“My nieces were just attacked, Daemon. The Shadowbinder attack was different. This is also a direct strike towards the Royal Family, and as its Head, it concerns me as well. Is it truly so wrong of me to attempt to comfort you, brother?”
Daemon scoffed, jaw tightening. He didn’t know why Viserys was there, but it wasn’t out of sympathy or comfort. He had barely spoken to Rhaena or Baela in the last few weeks, spending most of it in Dragonstone’s library, and sometimes speaking with Rhaenys occasionally.
A familiar voice spoke up behind him, “I am a very patient guy. If someone tries to escalate things while I’m here, I’m removing from this room.”
Daemon had almost forgotten about the sorcerer, which was odd, given the fact that he had tried to kill him minutes prior and was purposefully taking him to his daughters in the first place.
Immediately, every person in the room stiffened. The Kingsguard in the corner raised his sword, Viserys froze in his tracks, Alicent had gone ghostly pale, and even the Velaryons were gripping the wooden chairs very tightly.
Viserys thankfully regained his wits and stopped the Kingsguard by raising his hand, while the sorcerer seemed completely unconcerned by everyone’s results. He then turned towards Daemon, “Your wife is dealing with her two eldest. Apparently, they knew something was wrong and had been trying to sneak in. She’ll be here soon.”
Daemon didn’t particularly care about Rhaenyra in that moment, and instead just nodded and shifted his gaze towards the girls, only to notice that Daphne Potter was already at their side, whispering in a tongue that Daemon didn’t recognise. She turned to Potter, speaking up, “You were right. It’s some kind of magically enhanced poison. It’s… an unusual one.”
The sorcerer nodded, “I don’t see the point of it. Adding magic to a poison, unless it’s to target a magical creature, doesn’t make much sense. It doesn’t make any difference, though. Let’s stabilise them first before making any theories. I’ll deal with the curse.”
The golden-haired woman nodded, and the sorcerer knelt down. He looked as if he was listening for something before reaching into his strange cloak and taking out two white jewels, which would likely cost a small fortune each.
He put each one of his daughters’ foreheads, and slowly, the black veins moved towards it, as if it was absorbing them. The jewels turned darker as black veins faded from his girls’ sides, and it might have been Daemon’s imagination, but they looked less pale than they used to be.
Finally, the sorcerer grabbed both gems, now completely black, and looked a good look at them closely, “Very talented work, if a bit amateurish, a form of draining curse, if I’m guessing correctly. What do you think, Daph?”
“The poison itself isn’t that uncommon, meant for weakening organs until an inevitable death. The draining curse is meant to accelerate this, put more strain on the organs, maybe. It must have latched onto whatever blood magic that the Valyrians made must have made, which explains the veins blackening, a very odd magical interaction since draining curses affect magic first. Without their ancestry, they would have died very quickly, probably in two minutes at most.”
Daemon felt a shard of triumph. So, it was his blood, the blood of the dragon, that saved them, that fought off the cursed poison valiantly. He couldn’t help but feel proud, despite his daughters’ condition, proof of his lineage, of his culture, of the might of old Valyria.
Of course, all of this was dashed when the man shook his head, “There are far simpler poisons that would have done a far better job. This was measured, a way to keep them alive while also leaving them in a coma, slowly wasting away for months at least. Maybe they were planning on extorting the royal family or pretending to heal it miraculously for some fabled price. Or they could just want to hurt their family, to make them watch in vain as they slowly waste away. The girls couldn’t be healed without some good knowledge of magic, at least. Will you need my help now?”
“No, they’re stable enough. I just need to monitor that the organs are healing properly and nudge things if they don’t. The risk of developing cancerous cells in the long run is higher at that age, if it’s not monitored properly. I’ll stay here for a while and keep a rein on things. I don’t think you’ll need my help with what comes next. Just try not to go overboard.”
For the first time since they entered the room, the sorcerer’s face finally returned to his care-free, mischievous self, “No promises and good luck.”
The man just turned and left the room. Daemon followed after him, ignoring the yells back in the room, where everyone just demanded answers from Daphne Potter. Huh, no wonder he wished her good luck, given that she’d have to answer a lot of questions, given the fact that they barely explained everything.
As they walked out, he noticed that Ser Criston raised his hand at the sorcerer, “Halt! How did you get here?”
The other Kingsguard unsheathed his sword. Daemon prepared to say something, but the sorcerer rolled his eyes and spoke up, “You’re doing such a great job for the royal family. You’ve had a very long and hard day. Why don’t you take a nap?”
Both Kingsguard slowly tilted and fell asleep, just as the sorcerer asked of them. He then turned towards Daemon, “Sorry about that. We didn’t want the hassle with the girls being sick and decided to come in unnoticed. I forgot about that when we left. Silly of me, I know.”
Daemon demanded, “What did you do in there?”
“I removed the curse from the poison and put it in these gems. My wife stopped the poison and healed the damage that it caused. She’s staying just in case something heals incorrectly.”
That stopped the Rogue Prince cold, and he felt some of his rage slowly receding, “They will live?”
“Yeah? That’s what I said,” Potter answered while tilting his head, “They should be running around like nothing happened in a day or two. They’ll just need a proper night’s sleep to recover from the draining effect and feel a bit weak for the rest of the week, but that’s all.”
Pure relief. That was what Daemon felt.
He hadn’t felt that way in a long time, and it left him unmoored. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides, tension bleeding out with each breath.
“You have my thanks,” Daemon said quietly, the words tasting unfamiliar, “But where are you going now?”
“A curse always has a source, and whoever did this will do it again, and this time, they could do it differently. Now, I normally wouldn’t care about people killing each other; it’s just a part of being human, as distasteful as it is. But children… Well, that’s another matter. I would not risk them being targeted again.”
The man opened the door, and Daemon barely noticed that they had walked to the painted table, where Aegon the Conqueror had planned the conquest of all of Westeros. The sorcerer traced the carved table and smiled gently, “Your ancestor was an intelligent man, and a lot more prepared than most people thought about his conquest. I had noticed this the last time I was here, when I spoke to your brother. A very clever trick, making a divination table of an entire continent. It makes it a lot easier to track down who did this.”
Harry Potter took the two black gems and threw them at the table. Instead of falling and rolling around, the gems started to hover in the air before both moving across the table while still flying. They start from Dragonstone, before moving around and both eventually stopping, hovering above Harrenhal.
Daemon froze at the sight of the cursed fortress, one that the Conqueror had used as a demonstration of a dragon’s true might. The obvious display of magic still unsettled him.
It was different to see some black veins being absorbed into a gem or stopping a sword. It was somewhat possible in the realm of the parlour tricks that he had seen in his time in Essos. He’d never seen stone floating in the air, as if it were a dragon.
His unease was interrupted when he heard the sorcerer mutter to himself, “It makes sense, with the Gods Eye being so close. First, the Shadowbinders and now, this. A very curious little rat, isn’t he?”
For some reason, the image of a rat and the connection to Harrenhal made him think of a single person, “You think Larys Strong is responsible for this?”
“Him or someone around him. His sudden disappearance, despite his injuries, is suspicious, especially with the magic originating from Harrenhal. Although he seemed to be a cautious person. I don’t think that he had the magical capability to do something like this, but I suppose he could have hired someone. Even then, after what happened last time, even if he somehow healed himself, I think that he should have known better than to do anything this direct. There are many things that don’t make sense. Then again, not everything is always rational, is it?”
Daemon growled at the thought of that crippled bastard trying to kill his daughter or use them against him in some way. Maybe Otto had commanded him to do it, even. He almost wished that he could set Harrenhal aflame or just fly to King’s Landing and kill Otto and be done with it.
The sorcerer must have noticed his bloodlust and spoke up loudly, “I will deal with this myself. You are not equipped to handle a magical confrontation, especially one in a mage’s residence, one who, given by the curse, knows what they’re doing, at the very least. You will be completely out of your depth. I will go to Harrenhal alone and deal with this alone. Do you understand? You’re not a child, and I don’t particularly care if you live or die. I will not go out of my way to protect you either. If you wish to involve yourself and maybe even deprive Baela and Rhaena of their father, then be free. But the blame will fall completely on your shoulders. Farwell, Daemon Targaryen.”
And just like that, he turned, the black gems floating behind him, and left the room. Daemon ran after him, but saw that the corridor was completely deserted, with no signs of Harry Potter in any way.
He growled to himself. If that twig of a sorcerer thought that Daemon would let a slight like this go, then he obviously didn’t know him. He would take Caraxes and fly to Harrenhal. He would remind this cursed place of why it was wrong to poke a sleeping dragon.
He would remind everyone that to attack his children was to invite death to their doors.
AN: That was a bit harder to write than I expected. I tried to make Daemon somewhat prickly, but worried about his daughters, and the Potters be a bit serious, given that Rhaena and Baela were hurt. I decided to heal the twins, since, if we're honest, Harry and Daphne should easily be able to do it, and I didn't want to nerf them or come up with something completely ridiculous, just to force a plot point. Still, I hope it came out like I wanted to, but I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
HugoH
The whole family has an ego problem. I kinda wish for them to met a dragonrider with a much more powerful dragon so they could taste a bit of humble pie
Abe 7
Egoistic little shit, ain't he? Daemon has no impulse control and overinflated self-worth. Like many of today's rich kids with more money than sense.
